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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835067">beautiful boy (say goodbye)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/pseuds/Blueberries'>Blueberries (Blueberries_Pen)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU, Teen Titans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boot Worship, Extreme forced feminization, Failed escape, Forced Feminization, Kinktober 2020, Lactation, M/M, Misgendering, Noncontober 2020, Whumptober 2020, forced gender reassignment surgery, implied emasculation, restrained</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:06:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberries_Pen/pseuds/Blueberries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin runs. Slade gives chase. Robin doesn’t enjoy the consequences. Slade does.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>NonconWhumpKinktober 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947430</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>beautiful boy (say goodbye)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 5:<br/>Kinktober: Lactation, Boot Worship<br/>Noncontober: Restrained<br/>Whumptober: Failed Escape</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robin runs faster than he has his entire <em> life, </em> or at least it feels like it, because he has no other <em> choice</em>. Wind whips his hair, dirt thumping beneath bare feet, branches beating on his skin. His body has been so <em> weak </em> for so long, starved and malnourished with ribs so clearly visible, but the adrenaline pumping through him helps, even if the added weight to his chest doesn’t. He ignores it, ignores how utterly <em> wrong </em>it felt.</p><p>This is stupid.</p><p>Robin <em> knows </em> it’s stupid, because he doesn’t even have a <em> plan, </em>just an impulse that had seized his brain when he saw the entrance to the base.</p><p>...But he can’t help it. Somehow, he knows, that if he entered, Slade would fulfill <em> every </em> single one of his threats, that there will be no going back and Robin is <em> afraid. </em></p><p>So when Slade turned to unload, he’d bolted, heading into the woods, uncaring of his naked state. </p><p>He runs, flying over roots and swinging off branches and jumping off bark whenever he has to because - because -</p><p>If he gets caught, Slade will make him <em> hurt.  </em></p><p>Scratches all over his body, lungs burning, mouth panting, limbs getting heavier by the second, but he <em> runs. </em> Prays for a miracle, some act of some higher power, any higher power, Batman or Superman or even just a strike of lightning <em> anything, </em>to save him, but nobody comes. </p><p>He isn’t saved, and when at last he trips and stumbles, he sobs, trying to crawl forward but all the adrenaline is <em> gone. </em> His body’s too heavy, leadened, and he can’t move. He pulls himself forward, body scraping across the forest floor like he’s a damned <em> worm </em> , adding even more scratches, and this should be humiliating but he just wants to be <em> free, </em>and shame and pride seem like such distant concepts.</p><p>There’s the crunch of leaves behind him, and Robin closes his eyes in despair and slumps, sunlight burning through his eyes.</p><p>He can’t get away.</p><p>The warmth dissipates from his eyes as there’s a shadow cast over his face. His eyes open, seeing black boots in front of him.</p><p>“Stupid girl,” Slade says, voice cold above him. “What were you even thinking, hm?”</p><p>Robin flinches, hating the way Slade calls him, only reminds him of the horrific fate that awaits him. “I’m sorry, master,” he whispers, body shaking. But he’s <em> afraid. </em></p><p>“I had to track through dirt and mud after you,” Slade sneers, shoving his boot under Robin’s and grinding the tip into his nipple and Robin gasp because they’re just too sensitive. “Clean up your mess, <em> girl </em>.”</p><p>Robin looks down at it, sick, bile crawling up his throat and chest still heavy and aching, but - he’s done worse. Had worse done to him. And a moment spent out here is better than in <em> there.  </em></p><p>The taste doesn’t quite register, grating against his tongue because yesterday’s gruel had been too hot and Robin had been too hungry to care how it burned his throat and tongue. He laps it, little more than Slade’s glorified boot cleaner. It’s not fast enough for Slade, who shoves his other boot down on his back, leaving an imprint and abruptly forcing him to take in too much into his mouth and making him choke.</p><p>Slade sighs, irritated. “Useless,” he laments, and that sends a spike of fear through Robin as he sucks the leather, lathering it in spit and stabbing his tongue into every crevice because he <em> can’t </em> afford to make Slade any more angry with him. Clean. He has to make it <em> clean. </em></p><p>Sometimes, Robin wonders why if he is so dirty Slade uses him for this, but he knows better than to question his master.</p><p>When the boot finally lifts from his shoulder and lands without kicking him away, he can almost sob with relief, and gratefully presses kisses over the tips of Slade’s boots. “Thank you,” he says shakily. “<em> Thank you, </em> master <em> .”  </em></p><p>Slade’s hand reaches down, curling around his neck and yanking up, and Robin is limp, letting Slade move him around like a ragdoll, his earlier energy gone.</p><p>“You’re lucky I need you to be in mostly one piece for the next part,” Slade grumbles, picking him up and heading back towards base. “Dumb brat.”</p><p>Robin shivers drawing into himself and fist curling in Slade’s shirt. The closer they get, the more he presses close his eyes and prays Slade won’t follow through.</p><p>But he always does, and as soon as Robin sees the operating table waiting for him, with its needles and shackles and whatnot, he lets out a distressed whine. </p><p>“Stop that,” Slade snaps. “You’ve fucked up your body enough already, don’t make it worse.” He looks down critically at Robin, eyeing the scratches and dirt tracked all over him. </p><p>Robin hates the way Slade looks at him, hates that Slade thinks Robin’s body belongs to him and that he can do whatever he wants to him, change him and shape him however he likes. He’s already changed him so <em> much. </em></p><p>Robin should be fighting back, should be stopping Slade, shouldn’t be allowing anyone to violate him like this, but he is <em> weak. </em></p><p>“Please,” he begs instead, with wide beseeching eyes, because sometimes Slade is in a good mood, sometimes he can eat real food or sleep with a blanket or is even allowed a <em> shower </em>.</p><p>Slade looks down at him icily, and he shrinks back. “If you think, after the <em> stunt </em>you pulled, you filthy whore, I’m going to let you out of this, I’ll just break all your damn legs and leave you in here.”</p><p>Robin swallows, eyes darting around looking for an escape route he couldn’t even take if it even existed. Slade straps him all too quickly, limbs strapped down, other straps going down over his abdomen and neck, and then washes off the worst of the dirt with a scalding spray, making Robin scream and try to twist away as it hits his chest and groin. </p><p>So of course Slade lingers there.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Robin,” Slade says with a vicious, cruel smile when he finishes, hands running over Robin’s shivering body. Slade’s fingers settle over his cock and balls and squeezes. “I’m sure you’ll scream just as prettily without a <em> cock </em> . What do you think, boy? Think you’ll like it any better when I fuck your <em> cunt?”  </em></p><p>Robin sobs, turning his head to the side and shutting his eyes because he doesn’t want to watch himself get mutilated. </p><p>“Judging by <em> these,” </em> Slade hisses and squeezes both his breasts, and Robin <em> wails </em> because that sends cascades of lightning through his entire chest and makes it hard to breath, and it <em> hurts </em>like it never had before Slade had begun to pump him full of strange things. “I think you’ll scream even louder,” Slade concludes, smirking, just squeezing tighter.</p><p>“M-master-“ Robin gasps, turning back to Slade, eyes watery and begging. “<em> Please-“ </em></p><p>With a scoff, Slade mocks, “What, like you’re not enjoying having your tits pulled? Too fucking bad - this is what happens to disobedient whores.”</p><p>Slade gives another tug, but suddenly stops. </p><p>Robin should feel relief, but as he sees the trickle of white and feels liquid run down his front, all he feels is a sinking sense of horror. Slade in contrast, only laughs. “You’ve started even sooner than I expected, guess you really are a filthy slut, hm?” And then he leans down, closes his mouth around it and <em> sucks. </em></p><p>He’s not nice, cruel vicious pressure and teeth scraping skin and to Robin, it feels like Slade is trying to rip his nipples off. He screams bloody murder, hysterical, but no matter how he struggles, he can’t move, the restraints too tight. He just lies there, helpless, having to take everything Slade forced upon him.</p><p>And Slade doesn’t stop, biting and licking and pinching and squeezing, always torturing one or the other or both, persistently squeezing out every last drop of the first milk Robin’s body had produced, even long after no more comes out. By the time he’s done, Robin’s nipples are puffy reddened bruised peaks surrounded by teeth marks and just the act of his chest heaving with breaths is enough to hurt them.</p><p>“Delicious,” Slade purrs, licking his lips, and lifts the scalpel. Light gleams off it, ominous, and Robin looks up to him, sobbing and terrified. Slade only smiles back, and then, without a shred of guilt, without even providing him the numbness of anesthesia, brings it down.</p><p>Robin screams and screams and <em> screams, </em>but there is no freedom to be found.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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